


The Daydreamer

by bluebellsandcocklesshells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: High School AU, M/M, Sidekicks-esque dream sequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellsandcocklesshells/pseuds/bluebellsandcocklesshells





	The Daydreamer

Alastair went flying across the hall and crashed into a set of lockers.  Uriel was sent sliding down the tile floor of the hallway so far he disappeared from sight.  The hero turned his eyes on the remaining three bullies.  Their faces froze in horror, and then they fled in terror.  Castiel’s chief tormentors were defeated.

The hero turned to the person trembling on the floor.  Dean Henry Winchester looked up at him with wide eyes bright with unshed tears, his pretty lower lip trembling with relief and gratitude.  He reached out a hand.

“Oh, Castiel!  You’ve saved me!”

Castiel started to reach out to take Dean’s hand.

“Mr. Novak.”

Cas started out of his daydream.  He heard the soft snickers and giggles of his classmates.  He heard them often enough that he wasn’t particularly bothered by it anymore.  He looked up at Mr. Shurley.  The man was standing pretty much directly in front of him, with his hands clasped around a copy of _Henry V_.

“Yes?”

“Where were you this time?”

“At school,” Cas answered honestly.

“Hmm.  Can you tell me what the irony is in the king declaring, ‘My kingdom for a horse?’”

“Uh…”

The class sniggered again.

“It’s, um…it’s ironic because he needs a horse to go back into battle so that he can protect his kingdom.  But he’s willing to give up the kingdom he’s trying to preserve for the horse that would help him preserve it.”

Mr. Shurley raised an eyebrow.  “That’s excellent.  Can you tell me why it has no bearing on this class?”

Cas’ brow creased and he shook his head.

“It’s because we are reading _Henry V_ , and that quote is from _Richard III_.”

The class laughed and whispered around him.  Cas shrugged.

“Still shows I know more than the meatheads in the back of the room.”

“Ohhhhh!” most of the class let out the low noise indicating their amusement that the official junior class weirdo had just insulted three rather large members of the wrestling team.

“Please pay attention, Mr. Novak,” Mr. Shurley said with a small sigh.

Cas knew the reason for the sigh; Mr. Shurley thought he was “bright” and had a lot of “potential.”  He just spent so much time daydreaming that he missed what was covered in class and was lost on tests.  Cas didn’t care about his grades though.  He wasn’t going to go to college; he was going straight to New York City and pestering everyone he could at Marvel or DC Comics to take him on as an intern or even start right away as a line artist or letterer.  He was going to make graphic novels for a living; he didn’t need to know whether Henry V or Richard III had a hunchback.

Of course, _he_ might have a hunchback when this class was over.  He had a feeling the wrestlers in the back of the room wouldn’t be happy with his characterization of them.  When the bell rang they stood up immediately to confront him.  The class and their desks parted like the Red Sea as they advanced on him.  Castiel quickly ran through some Kung Fu moves before settling in a low stance as a ring of fire encircled him and his adversaries.

“Castiel!”

Behind him Dean was chained by his wrists to a set of blue lockers stuck in a black, volcanic rock wall.  He wore nothing but a skimpy loincloth and his skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.

“Help me!”

“Hang on, babe,” Castiel replied confidently.

He sized up his three enemies again, who were even bigger now.  Castiel moved just the tips of his fingers, inviting them to attack.  Fools that they were, they did.  With a few fluid, graceful moves, Castiel dispatched the meatheads.  The class cheered for him.  He walked through the ring of flames to Dean and ripped the chains off the lockers.

“Oh!” Dean gasped, his cheeks pink and parted lips shiny.

Castiel grabbed him around the waist, and found himself now a couple of inches taller than Dean.  He reached down and slid a hand under Dean’s knee, pulling his leg up to hook around his hip as he lowered him into a dip.

“Oh, Castiel!”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You’re so strong.  And powerful!”

“Indeed, I am.  Allow me to demonstrate.”

Castiel leaned down to kiss him.

The real bell rang, snapping Cas out of his reverie.  He shoved his books in his bag and darted out the door faster than anyone else.  He had no delusions about what a real confrontation with the three guys in the back of his class would be like.  Fortunately that had been the last class of the day, so he sprinted down the hall, ignoring the warning from a teacher to walk, and out the front doors.

He jogged over to the bike rack and unlocked his 10-speed.  He was tearing down the sidewalk before the first wave of students started making their way to the long line of buses out front.  It had rained for three solid days, but finally today Cas had been free of the torment of riding the bus and could be alone on his bike.  The wrestling team had a match after school, so he wasn’t fleeing from them.  He rode like a bat out of hell every time he left those constricting, concrete walls.  Cas hoped that the wrestlers won.  Then they might not remember the insult he’d paid them tomorrow.  Of course, they probably didn’t care what a dweeb like him thought or said about them anyway.

Cas took the turn from Wellington onto Hasting a little too quickly and his bike wobbled dangerously before he could get it back under control.

The beast gave another shake, irritated by the human that had tamed him, but Castiel held on firmly.  The dragon turned again and the wind flowed coolly through Castiel’s hair.  He turned his face into it, appreciating the brilliant pink sky with the silky, lime green clouds.  Beside him, a white dragon covered in fur instead of scales soared dangerously close.  Castiel’s dragon snorted and bucked, but Castiel held on expertly.  The rider of the white dragon wore wispy scraps of colorful cloth that flowed behind him like a liquid rainbow.  He laughed as he held onto his dragon with one hand, his legs tucked gracefully to the side.

“How now, Sir Castiel,” Dean said.  “Well met.”

“Well met indeed, Prince Dean.  We seem to keep running into each other.”

Dean ducked his head demurely and then bit his lip with a coquettish smile.  “It’s no accident, Sir.”

Their dragons banked left and the blue scrap of cloth covering one of Dean’s shoulders slipped down, revealing a strong shoulder with a red handprint—Castiel’s handprint—emblazoned on the soft skin.  More of the cloths began to slip away, revealing Dean’s body in increments.  Castiel stared, his mouth hanging open.

A car horn blared just to his left and Cas cursed as he swerved and only didn’t get hit because the driver had managed to brake in time.  Cas had run right through a red light.  Oh, well.  He was basically home anyway, taking the turn into his neighborhood.  He stood up to pedal up the hill to his cul-de-sac, and then coasted onto his driveway.

He opened the garage door using the pin on the keypad and stored his bike against the wall as far as it would go.  He’d gotten careless one day and his father had run over his bike and destroyed it.  His parents had said it was his own fault and wouldn’t buy him a new one.  He’d had to ride the bus to school from October to December of his sophomore year until he’d finally gotten a new bike for Christmas.  He was never going to let that happen again.

He burst in the door that led to the kitchen, startling his mother.  She put a hand to her chest and then glared down at the red splotch of sauce on her clean floor.  Cas was already getting a paper towel off the rack and wiped up the mess before he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Do your homework before you play any games!” his mother called in vain as he ran out of the room.

Cas dropped his book bag off by the desk in the basement, and then slipped out the back sliding glass door.  He crossed his yard and then continued down the hill to the cul-de-sac behind his.  At the grey house with blue shutters, he carefully climbed up the white trellis that was currently covered in ivy, but sported roses in early June.  It was a thick, sturdy trellis and could hold his weight now as easily as it had when he’d been five and climbed it for the first time.  He made it up three stories, technically to the second floor of the house since it had a walkout basement set in a hill, and peeked in through the window.

Dean Winchester sat at the desk in his room, reading a book that was probably for school since the cover didn’t look like a graphic novel.  The navy jacket from his private school uniform was carefully hanging on the back of his chair, but he was still dressed in the slacks, button down shirt, and green plaid tie.  It was what the Letters Academy students wore in the winter.  In the early fall and spring they wore green argyle sweater vests and navy ties.

Castiel took a moment to watch Dean—the object of so many, hell, _all_ of his fantasies.  He was beautiful and hated it.  He wished he was manlier, but Castiel loved his full lips and his long lashes.  He could wax poetic about them for hours—and had in his journal.  His hands were slender, but big.  Cas suspected Dean was going to get taller and bigger even though he was already close to six feet and towered over him by at least three or four inches.  Cas wished he would hit another growth spurt.  He was still stuck at 5’7” and several girls in his class were taller than that.

Cas sighed as he gazed at Dean.  He supposed it was a little creepy to just stare at him like this, but he was so pretty.  Something must have pulled Dean’s attention because he suddenly looked up, his eyes landing directly on Cas.  Cas was so startled he almost lost his grip on the trellis.  Dean put his book down and then crossed the room, leaning one knee on his bed so that he could reach the window and open it.  Cas hauled himself up and accepted Dean’s hand as he helped him inside.  Cas crawled onto the bed, and then swung his legs around to dangle off the side.  Dean kept his bed on risers and it always made Cas feel like a little kid when he sat on it.  Well…sometimes.  Other times he felt more like an adult.

“Hi, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.  How was school?”

Cas shrugged.  “Sucked.  You?”

Dean shrugged.  “Sucked.”

Cas smiled at him.  Dean leaned forward and kissed him, cupping the back of his neck to hold him close and keep control of him.  Cas gave in willingly, opening his mouth to Dean’s tongue and letting himself get pressed back into the soft mattress.  He let out a small noise of surrender—of want and need and longing.  It made Dean laugh softly.  Then Dean pulled back and smiled down at him.

He tweaked one of Cas’ nipples.

“Ouch!”  Cas rubbed the offended nub and glared at Dean.

“No, Castiel, you’re not daydreaming.”


End file.
